


Tell me that we'll stay the same.

by fuuckya



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Tigger Warnings - Eating Disorder
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-08
Updated: 2013-01-08
Packaged: 2017-11-24 03:40:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/629976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fuuckya/pseuds/fuuckya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry scares him sometimes with his trembling fingers and hollow eyes. But he’s still beautiful and delicate and Louis wants him forever and ever and ever and ever.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tell me that we'll stay the same.

Harry is so beautiful and fragile, so young and sweet and kind. His skin stretches like sheet over the canvas of bones, white like the purest snow but warm to touch like the sun.

His eyes were still as green as the first day Louis met him. His heart still flutters the same.

+

It was a cold January afternoon when they first meet. London is flooded with rain, coming down in sheets over the city. The gutters overflow and suddenly all the streets are quiet.

Louis is huddled in the doorway of an old bookstore, waiting for the rain to subside so he could make it to his car. Someone joins him in the shelter; a tall boy with a pretty, young face, his curls dripping with rain and his eyes a deep emerald green.

‘I knew I should have brought my umbrella,’ he had said, dimples biting into his cheek as he brushes the wet curls from his eyes.

Louis looks up at him and his heart hammers wildly in his chest, ‘You’re so beautiful,’ he breaths. 

And the rest, as they say, is history.

+

The next time they meet Harry takes them to a small restaurant just on the outskirts of town. Louis hands shake with nervous energy and Harry laughs a lot and forgets to eat his meal.

Louis kisses him the first time on their second date on the tube. He kisses Harry firmly but sweetly and when Harry kisses back, he has to pull away because he’s smiling too hard. He kissed me back. 

The first time they make love is on Louis’ couch after a shitty movie. It’s clumsy and sweet and Harry is giddy and special and Louis can feel it in his heart. He’s in love.

He confesses it against Harry’s lips and the younger boy smiles, eyes sparkling with happiness. He wriggles down Louis’ body and kisses it into the skin of his thighs, his hips and licks a fat stripe up his shaft and shows him how much he loves him too.

When they first move in together a few months later, they make friends with their next-door neighbour Liam, and their across-the-hall neighbours Niall and Zayn. They invite them over to help them figure out the stove because it’s the same one in every apartment apparently. They end up drinking too much cheap wine and snack on pretzels and they become best friends, as if they had been all their lives. 

For the first time in Louis’ life, he feels like he is exactly where he needs to be.

+

‘Do you believe that you are just meant to meet people?’ Harry asks him the next day at breakfast.

Louis is halfway through stuffing his face with Harry’s famous scrambled eggs and the younger boy giggles, reaching over to swipe a bit of egg away from his lips. ‘I mean, you know, with the lads. Do you think we were all meant to be neighbours and stuff?’

Louis swallows and thinks for a moment, before shovelling another bite into his mouth. 

‘I think I was meant to meet you? If that answers your question,’ he says around the eggs. Harry smiles and gets up, pours himself a glass of water. 

‘I think that too.’

+

Harry doesn’t eat much and it reflects in the dip of his hips and the cut of his jaw line. His wrists are so thin and Louis wraps his hand around it sometimes, feels the pulse flutter beneath the skin and he sighs in relief, he’s still very much there. Still alive.

Liam tells him one day, says ‘you should eat something mate,’

Harry doesn’t miss a beat but Louis can feel him tense in his lap, ‘I’m not hungry in the mornings,’ he replies. They’re seated around the kitchen table, Liam having barged in because Niall had stolen his milk that morning. 

Harry’s sitting in Louis lap and his thighs ache because Harry’s so boney, but he bites his tongue and doesn’t say a thing.

Liam raises an eyebrow but doesn’t say anything for the rest of his stay. 

+

They potter around the house that day, intending to do nothing, waste the day away. 

Louis is looking up movie reviews, seeing if there are any indie films playing at the cinema on the corner of their street. Harry likes indie movies, seems more languid and poetic after they see a film. 

Louis thinks it would be good for the both of them.

‘Babe?’ he hears Harry call from the bedroom and his heart skips a beat at the sound.

‘Yes, sweetheart,’ he calls back, clicking away at the keys on the keyboard.

‘Let’s go shopping,’ he hears and he sighs, shuts his laptop and goes to put some shoes on. He can never say no to Harry.

+

Harry is so excited and happy and smiley. He is infatuated with the world around him, loves everything before he even knows it. Louis loves to hold his hand and walk down the street, smile as the boy attached to him say ‘hi’ to everyone as they pass.

He’s fiddling with the buttons of a shirt as he watches Harry from across the store. His limbs are so gangly and awkward; his toes try to kiss each other when he stands. He looks like a child and loves like one too, unashamed and unconditional. 

But Harry looks a little distracted now, Louis notes, because he’s always watching. He sits down on an antique chair in the corner and puts his head in his hands. Louis is at his side in a heartbeat.

‘What’s wrong, baby?’ he asks, falling to his knees in front of him. He pulls at his skinny wrists softly; scared he will break, so he can see his beautiful face. 

‘I don’t feel good,’ Harry replies, his voice small and hurt and Louis wants to cry. 

His heart instantly plummets because Harry’s face is pale, not milky and soft like silk. He looks grey and there are bags under his eyes that are carrying the whole world. He thinks about the plate of fruit salad on the kitchen counter, thinks about the half bitten piece of apple staring up at him, mocking him. He remembers how he had turned his back on it and walked out the door with Harry.

He bites his tongue so hard he can taste the sweet copper of blood. He swallows down the taste and doesn’t say a thing.

‘Can we go home?’ Harry asks looking small and fragile in Louis arms. His pulse still beats steadily on and Louis pulls him to his feet.

‘Okay. Let’s get you to bed, yeah?’ 

+

Louis isn’t’ being selfish and he tells himself that every day. He’s not being selfish because when he first met Harry he told him he was beautiful. His first voicemail to him was telling him he was perfect. He wouldn’t take that back just because Harry’s skin clings to his bones. He’s still Harry and he’s still perfect either way.

He’s not selfish because he stopped offering Harry food. He knows that it makes him uncomfortable, and as much as it pains him to let Harry sit across from him at the table and play with his meal, he still pretends he doesn’t notice.

He tells himself he’s not selfish because he won’t drive Harry away even though his paper thin skin and geometric bones scare him. He won’t fight Harry because he doesn’t want to lose him. He thinks he will die without him.

Just because he’s scared to be alone, that doesn’t make him selfish.

+  
Harry’s slim with bones made of dust. He’s thoughtful and talented and Louis thinks the world of him. 

His heart aches every time he touches him because he cannot believe how lucky he is to have a boy like Harry, someone so special and unique and his.

‘You need to stop looking at me like that,’ Harry says when they are tangled up in bed together. Sometimes Louis can’t believe a boy like him exists. 

‘I love you,’ is all he can manage to say and Harry smiles his beautiful smile, just for Louis.

‘Always and forever,’ Harry promises.

He sleeps not long after, lulled by the comfortable silence that fell upon them. He’s curled around Louis like a vine. He’s long and handsy just like them and Louis thinks that he would gladly suffocate.

His thigh is thrown carelessly over Louis’ hip. His knees are sharp and aggressive when he has nightmares, ones that make him whine and cry and lash out in his sleep.

Louis digs his fingernails into the soft flesh, just a little, and Harry mumbles something in his sleep, ‘tickles,’ he says and pulls himself impossibly closer, one hand fisting in Louis’ shirt.

There are marks left there in the morning.

+

Louis is woken by a rustling sound. He cracks an eye open and sees Harry rummaging around the draws of their room. He’s naked, back to Louis, and he looks skinnier in this pale morning light. 

The plain of his back is rigid as the bones try to break against the skin. His hips are slim and his waist is small. He looks so breakable, like the smallest bump could break him in two.

Louis never realised how skinny he was, now that he really stares at him. He can see all the veins racing around under his transparent skin, creating a map under the flesh. 

First the first time Louis sees how sick he looks, is. Its scares him more than anything and the tears prick in his eyes, his chest aches. His perfect, beautiful boy is wasting away before his eyes as he sits there and lets it happen. 

It’s slow and cruel like torture, making them both suffer and they can’t seem to stop. 

Harry turns around then, having found what he was looking for and Louis squeezes his eyes shut, tells his face to relax and he pretends to sleep until Harry is gone from the room, and keeps pretending until the late afternoon. 

+

He stands in the doorway of the lounge room and finds Harry with a small handful of blueberries, sitting cross-legged on the couch.

He’s staring at the news as he sucks on one blueberry, rolling it around in his mouth like a hard candy; he lets it sit on his tongue for several minutes before he bursts it with his teeth, letting the juices explode in his mouth before he eats another.

He’s wearing Louis’ oversized jumper, one that he found in a second hand store. The arms are a little long, even for him, and the big woollen stitch sits heavily on him, swallows him whole. 

‘Come back to bed,’ Louis says softly, running a hand up the wood of the doorframe. 

Harry turns his head, studies him for a moment and gets up. They both don’t speak until they get to the room and Harry is already undressing. ‘I love you,’ Louis says, removing his own clothes.

Harry smiles at him, pulls him closer until their chests bump, ‘always and forever.’

+

Harry gasps and clutches as Louis bicep, nails biting softly into the skin, marks blooming.

Louis rolls his hips, pushing up into the tight, velvet heat and the younger boy writhes under him, letting out a choked sob.

‘mm, fuck,’ he whines, arching off the bed, ribs cut like glass and straining against the skin, ‘so close,’ he gasps.

Louis grunts in agreement, hips snapping. The headboard bounces rhythmically off the wall as Harry moans and wriggles, the embers of his orgasm lighting in his stomach.  
Harry’s so gorgeous when he’s being fucked. His eyes are glassy and clouded and his cheeks pink. The electricity bolts through his veins and he vibrates with it. Alive.

Louis wants to devour him, to take until he cannot anymore. He wants Harry a writhing, sweaty mess under him all the time because in these moments he is so true and free.  
With a few more rough thrusts Harry is cumming in long spurts across his stomach, cock untouched. Louis follows him immediately, overwhelmed by the feeling of Harry all around him. 

They both come down from their high with Louis still rocking gently inside him. Harry makes a sweet little sound and Louis kisses his ruby red lips, drinking the gasps that fall from them as he gently pulls out.

‘God, you’re amazing,’ Louis praises, still trying to catch his breath.

+

Later, in the afterglow Louis is playing with Harry’s fingers, long and slender, he slips his between them and touches their palms together.

Harry is so sweet and cuddly, watching Louis with a small smile, watching him play with their hands. Always watching him.

‘What do you want to do now?’ Louis asks. Harry’s hand is soft in his own.

Harry shrugs his shoulder and detangles their fingers so he can cuddle up to Louis’ side, roll him onto his back and nuzzle into the space between his neck and shoulder. His favourite place to be.

They stay like that a while, ankles locked together, the question hanging above them in the sex filled air. Louis thinks Harry has fallen asleep because his chest barely rises with each breath and he’s so calm and still. He wraps a hand around Harry’s wrists and counts the heartbeats. 

‘Take me out to dinner,’ he says, whispers it, like a secret. Louis’ isn’t sure he heard him correctly.

‘What?’ he asks, louder and Harry presses his sharp hip into Louis’ side, tilting his chin up so his breath dances across the shell of Louis’ ear, making him shiver.

‘Take me out to dinner,’ he repeats softly. 

They’re speeding down the road within 20 minutes. 

+

On the outskirts of town there is a small restaurant Zayn had told them about, it’s a quiet, quaint little place that serves the best dessert in the world. 

‘You haven’t been outside of the UK, Zayn,’ Liam had teased, flicking him on the nose. 

‘Don’t need to. I still know ‘Chocolate Orgasm’ is the best fucking mousse in this whole galaxy,’ he had replied, flicking him right back. 

Louis had called them from the car to make a reservation; phone tucked between his shoulder and his ear as he almost takes them out on a corner. 

Harry squeezes his knee but doesn’t flinch at all and laughs whole heartedly as the car slams back onto the road. 

+

Harry is cute and funny and Louis can’t stop touching him, not now, not ever. 

At the restaurant they are seated in a booth in the corner, the place is small and dim and filled with fairy lights, it’s completely empty and Louis is sure they didn’t even write his reservation down.

Harry glows in the flicker of the candles on the table and takes Louis’ breath away.

He’s so giddy, smiling so wide his cheeks begin to ache. Harry studies the menu with a small frown as he reads; skimming over the words with a bony finger and Louis can’t stop smiling.

The waiter comes over and judges them; eyes the bruises blooming on Harry’s neck, sees the sparkle in Louis’ eye. Harry orders for them both as Louis stares and smiles at him from across the table.

He wriggles closer when the waiter is gone, whispers ‘I think he fancies you,’ into Harry’s curls and Harry giggles and it sounds like a beautiful symphony and Louis almost cries when he says,

‘Too bad I’m stuck with you.’

+

They sit side by side when they eat, legs entwined under the table as Louis picks at his entree then Harry’s. 

For the main course Harry eats seafood and Louis eats steak but they end up with a sea/steak mess on each plate because Louis is so happy he cannot help himself. 

Harry’s straddling his lap with a hand inside his shirt when dessert is served. ‘Chocolate orgasm’ is shared between them and Louis sends a text to Zayn in a form of ‘key smashing’ but auto correct sends a text that reads:

**Dishevelled fjsksve fjfjbsk Andorra**

He gets a **:)?** back. 

+  
On the way to the car Louis’ blood feels thick with meat and chocolate and he can feel himself sinking into the concrete. His tired and satisfied and still smiling so hard he’s sure his face is stuck like that now.

They sit on the back of the car for a while as Louis licks inside Harry’s mouth. ‘Chocolate orgasm’ tickles his tastebuds and Harry sighs happily when Louis’ controlled himself enough to pull away. 

The car ride home is filled with Frank Sinatra crooning at low volume through the speakers. Harry sings under his breath and the words seep under Louis skin and he lets it sink into his pores and gains a new appreciation for the lyrics of a love song.

As soon as they step through the front door Harry is bee-lining for the bathroom and Louis stomach twists painfully.

+

He lets him go and slowly gets himself ready for bed. He changes his clothes and fetches the throwover Harry had left on the couch and only when he slides under the cold covers does he realise something is wrong.

‘Harry?’ he asks tentatively as he pushes the bathroom door open. The blood is rushing in his ears as the golden light floods into the hallway and his blood runs cold when he sees Harry on the floor.

He looks terrible, eyes a dull grey colour as he clings to the porcelain bowl with shaking, weak hands.

‘Lou,’ he mewls pathetically, voice rough and tired, ‘I feel sick,’ he chokes, tears spilling down his cheeks and Louis wants to scream because he should have come in sooner, shouldn’t have waited an hour to check on him.

He should have known better.

Louis drops to his knees and cradles Harry’s form in his arms, his limbs are trembling and his skin scorching hot and even though he’s so much taller than Louis, he feels really small.

‘I’m sorry sweetheart,’ he says, voice catching in his throat because when Harry cries, he cries too.

Harry shakes a little and wriggles pathetically in his grip. He turns towards the bowl and heaves, retches loudly and spills his insides out. 

‘I’ll get you some water,’ Louis suggests, getting up on shaky legs and fetching a tall, cool glass. 

When Harry drinks it he throws up instantly and Louis wants to punch himself.

+

They stay in the bathroom all night. Harry is sweaty but cold and Louis makes him undress, right down to his briefs. He knows from past drunken experiences that Harry hates being touched when he’s sick, so Louis sits on the other side of the bathroom and his hands itch and he watches. 

He watches helplessly as Harry’s body convulses violently, stomach completely empty with nothing but sour, burning bile crawling up his throat. 

Harry sobs, defeated when nothing comes up and Louis leaves to grab some pillows and some blankets to construct a makeshift bed on the cold bathroom floor.  
He cuddles Harry close and wishes he could take away the pain. 

Harry cries loudly, whining and burying himself into Louis and every ten minutes has to sit up to plunge his head into the bowl again.

Louis cries silently and makes sure his tears don’t fall on Harry.

Neither of them sleep at all that night. 

+

At about 6am Harry feels comfortable enough to move to the bedroom. They gather the makeshift bed and a bucket from under the sink and lay together on the right side of the bed. 

Around about 8am is when Harry finally sleeps, snoring a little because of his blocked nose and Louis lets himself relax. He dozes a little but always jerks awake when Harry shuffles a bit in his sleep. 

It’s close to 11.30 when Harry stirs, rolling around in Louis’ arms to nose at the stubble on his chin. 

‘Morning,’ he croaks, looking sad and tired and Louis hopes he can nap later.

‘How do you feel?’ he asks, involuntarily pulling Harry closer when the younger boy sighs. 

‘I feel sick,’ he replies sadly, sticking his legs between Louis’ and closing his eyes, ‘I think I got food poisoning.’

It was his first meal since God knows when and they had eaten like kings, laughing with contempt for the world because _they were invincible._ Louis bites his tongue and doesn’t say a thing.

He gets up not long after, feeling a strange concoction of anger, sadness, worry, hurt, sympathy, stupidity and fear. He leaves Harry to doze, hoping it was a one day fiasco.  
Not that is matters much anyway; he always only cooks breakfast for one

+

Harry scares him sometimes with his trembling fingers and hollow eyes. But he’s still beautiful and delicate and Louis wants him forever and ever and ever and ever. 

‘Good morning, my love,’ Harry says weakly, face beaming with a radiant light despite the sickness behind his eyes and the heaviness in his step. 

‘Hey!’ Louis cries, attention diverted from his phone, ‘how are you feeling?’

Harry takes a seat across from him at the kitchen table, blanket falling from his sharp shoulders and Louis tucks his foot between his crossed ankles, bony and uncomfortable.

‘I feel a little better,’ he replies, looking a little brighter, ‘I think the sleep did me good.’

Louis hums happily, rubs his socked toe against Harry’s soft skin, ‘you look a little better’ is all he can manage to say.

Harry studies him with his big green eyes, his bottom lip tucked between his teeth. Louis knows he can read his thoughts but neither of them mention it.

‘Thank you, by the way,’ he says, almost sheepishly and Louis beams at him, feels his heart beat flutter.

Anything for you he wants to say, but he notices how Harry’s collarbones stick out dangerously because of the way he’s hunched over himself and it scares him that _anything_ may be their demise. 

He continues to smile but the muscles pull differently and he says, ‘That’s okay.’

+

He takes them on holiday to the beautiful Italian coast and Niall texts them when they’re at the airport asking if he could come along.

**Zayn keeps bringing girls over and I’m horny and want some Italian bitches!!!**

Louis shows Harry the text and they both laugh about it, Harry throwing his head back to roar and Louis is really, really in love with him.

**Sorry babe. I’ll fedex you some authentic Italian pasta xx**

Niall sends back almost instantly.

 **That totally makes up for it xx**

+

Harry is thin and his bones are breakable and bleached. His skin, however, is golden tan from the Italian sun and Louis licks his neck and bites the sharp cut of his hip and thinks he tastes sweeter like this.

The sun sets and Louis watches from the king sized bed in their hotel room.

Harry is standing on the balcony, the French doors open to let a breeze inside. His back is to Louis, staring out at the ocean, watching life go by beneath him. He’s still in his black swimming shorts and the sun kisses his golden skin, illuminating him.

He shines so bright that he puts the slowly dying sun to shame. He’s more beautiful than the painted skyline and the world around him. 

Louis thinks he is an angel that has fallen from heaven, travelled through hell, and became a God.

All Louis thinks and breathes and loves is Harry. 

He must have said it out loud because Harry turns to him, the sunlight catching the ends of his hair colouring them gold. 

‘Louis,’ he smiles, making his way over to the bed. He crawls up the thin sheets and kisses Louis softly and for a while the world is lost.

+

When they get home to London, Louis lets Harry spread him out and fuck him and screams for more and more and more. 

He sleeps for half a day when they’re done, sticky and sweaty and wakes up on Harry’s side of the bed.

In the kitchen there is a pink post-it note on the fridge. Harry’s handwriting is smooth and fancy and Louis traces his fingers over the words, tracing over Harry.

_Going across the hall for drinks, come on over when you’re ready._

_I know you would have wanted me to wake you up, but you look so beautiful when you sleep._

_I love you x_

He takes his time in the shower and decides to unpack both his and Harry’s bags before he leaves.

Sand sprinkles on the floor when he picks up his towel and he likes to think he is a different person, hopes that Harry is a different person too.

He thinks he can hear the waves crashing on the shoreline but it’s really a bus driving past his window. 

+

He’s pretty sure Niall is a secret bartender, or maybe he’s just Irish, he hasn’t decided yet.

At about 3am they stumble home, mouths tasting like a concoction of thousands of cocktails and Louis knows that he’s going to feel shit tomorrow.

Harry moves like liquid and his smile is lazy but his eyes are burning, alive.

They manage to get to their bedroom without any mishaps and Harry rolls around on top of the sheets fully clothed, giggling at his own racism and half-heartedly fighting Louis off as he tries to undress him.

‘I bet Zayn is actually Mexican,’ he slurs, lifting his arms up and allowing Louis to slip off his shirt, ‘No one I know makes guacamole like he does-‘ he trails off after that, words overlapping each other like his tongue is too big for his mouth. 

When Louis unzips his jeans he can feel how hard he is and Harry smirks up at him and his eyes change colour. 

They fuck until they’re sober and Louis keeps running his hands up and down Harry’s body, scratching and nipping and feeling out each crevice that he knows and loves so well. He can feel Harry watching from under him. Louis rocks into his body, traces over him with his eyes and can’t seem to look away.

After they’re done Harry locks himself the bathroom and when the toilet flushes repeatedly Louis thinks of the sand the sun and the sea until Harry returns. 

+

Somewhere in the middle of October Louis gets a new temp job at Liam’s work. Sonja (whoever Sonja is) has time off for maternity leave and a space had opened up.

He sits in his tiny office cubicle and answers phones and types on his computer and stares a picture of Harry.

The photo tacked onto the wall is of Harry when he was 16. He’s sitting cross-legged on a banana lounge near a pool. He’s wearing a white tshirt and jean shorts and he’s so much younger, more innocent. 

Louis had found the photo in an old wooden box Harry keeps in the wardrobe and took it without his permission.

He’s smiling so bright that it’s almost blinding, his eyes are so crystal clear and he looks so – 

Louis turns back to his computer and finishes his paragraph. 

+

‘What do you want for your birthday?’ Harry asks him, it’s a Tuesday afternoon and he should be at work. 

Louis tries not to openly shudder at the thought of being 21; it seems absurd really, to be that afraid of aging. His mother tells him every year to think of it as ‘another adventure’ but he’s pretty sure there wasn’t much difference between his 19th and 20th birthday. 

He says ‘fuck adventure.’

Harry’s got his feet in his lap and they’re watching the shopping channel. Louis thinks of all the things he wants: a new car, his sweatpants with the hole in the knee (he thinks Liam has them), a toaster that cooks both sides of the bread, a million dollars... 

He loses his train of thought when he looks at Harry, his gorgeous Harry with chocolate curls, emerald eyes and ruby red lips, his heart of gold and kisses of peppermint. He wants Harry to be happy and free, wants him to be free and happy and wants him to never be hurt. 

He wants for them to cook dinner together, wants to kiss Harry silly as they wait for the chicken to roast. He knows they’d end up burning it anyway so he’d take the cream they were going to use for dessert and lick it off Harry’s cock. They’d probably order Chinese at about 1am and eat until they couldn’t breathe. 

Instead he says, ‘I need new shoes,’ and flashes him a half-smile.

Approximately 2 hours later he gets a text from his sister that says:

**Wat do u want 4 yr bday? Xxx oooo xxxx ooo**

He doesn’t reply for a whole day.

+

The winter is approaching fast; the days grow shorter as the nights grow colder. Louis wears so many layers all the time that his skin never breathes and one day he looks in the mirror and realises his tan has gone. 

Harry still looks as radiant as ever, beanie pulled down over his head, pushing the curls from his face. He looks younger like this and Louis kisses him, runs his tongue across the roof of his mouth and says, 

‘I don’t want to go.’

Harry snorts because he’s being ridiculous and Liam asked for his help.

‘Go help Liam pick out a bed and I’ll be here when you get back, promise.’

They kiss until Liam is banging repeatedly on the door and Louis answers it and reminds him he has a spare key.

+

Liam has dragged him all around London and then some. Literally. 

They go into every bed, furniture, hardware (‘we don’t sell beds, sorry,’) stores and Louis is pretty sure his nose fell off somewhere about 2 hours ago. 

They lay on a queen sized bed somewhere in the west and they both sink deep into the mattress.

‘I think this is the one,’ Liam says finally, Louis is pretty sure he dozed off, ‘It feels like Dani’s bed back home.’

Louis rolls onto his side to look at his friend, curling up into a ball like he always does when he sleeps on his side.

‘You do realise that they have this store about a ten minute drive from our place?’ he mumbles, face half squished because of his position. 

Liam laughs and gets up; the bed deflates a little as if it were pumped with air, he holds out a hand for Louis to take and helps him to his feet.

‘I know,’ he says, clapping him on the back, ‘I just wanted to make sure I found the perfect one for us.’

Louis thinks he should buy Harry a bed.

+

They get back to the flat and they take the stairs instead of the lift. Liam races him the last flight of stairs to the third floor. He invites himself inside for a beer because he kicked Louis ass and when Louis opens the door he gets a surprise.

‘Surprise!’ comes a chorus of voices as he walks through the door. 

He’s tackled by his best friend Stan and they both fall onto a heap on the floor.

‘Happy Birthday, mate!’ Stan says, clapping him on the chest and standing up, helps him to his feet. 

Harry floats over from his place next to the kitchen sink and kisses him in front of all his close friends and family. He tastes like champagne and nothing else.

‘Happy Birthday, Lou. I love you,’ he whispers into his mouth and Louis can’t help but smile.

+

It’s a small party full of love and joy and laughter.

He’s pretty buzzed already and he’s sitting in the corner of the kitchen watching Harry and Niall dance with his younger sisters and he’s so, so happy.

Harry is graceful and peaceful and his laughter warms him inside out like a bowl of soup in the winter. 

The cake comes out and they all sing Happy Birthday in a strange harmony and it’s all over pretty quickly.

He’s handed a generous piece of cake by his mother and Harry weaves his way through the crowd and settles in his lap, kisses the corner of his mouth and Louis heart skips a beat. 

‘I know what I want for my birthday,’ he says quickly, wrapping his free arm around Harry to give him a squeeze. Harry eyes glitter and he looks excited, ready to please Louis at any time. ‘Share my piece of cake with me.’

Harry only smiles wider and leans down to kiss him again, ‘only if you feed me,’ he says against his lips, kissing him quickly once more to seal the deal.

Louis is so happy that his hands shake when he feeds Harry with a plastic fork, he kisses him between each mouth full, tastes icing and sugar and Harry until his head begins to swim. 

+

The party starts to pick up again after everyone is well fed and full of liquor. Niall starts to pour his home made cocktail branded ‘a-naill-ihlator’ (‘copy-writed, bitch’) and everything is fine.

Louis is laughing with some old friends, reliving stories of their childhood and the shit they used to think was cool.

He’s drunk enough that the perimeter of his vision is blurred and he’s showing his mum the scar on his back from when he had gotten drunk (super high), and attempted to climb a fence but fell into a thorn bush instead. 

His blood is warm in his veins and he feels a little heavy-footed, but he laughs so loud like he hasn’t done in ages and he can’t bring himself to care.

Someone is tapping him on the shoulder and excusing them and pulling him away.

It’s Zayn.

‘I think you better come with me,’ he says, looking rather solemn as he pulls Louis towards the bathroom at the end of the hall. He stops outside the door and says, ‘I went to take a piss and I found him in there, he’s asking for you.’ 

Louis doesn’t have time to register before he’s being pushed inside their claustrophobic bathroom and his heart completely stops.

De ja vu hits him like a runaway truck when he sees Harry sitting by the toilet, the inside of the bowl tainted and his wounds exposed.

‘I’m so sorry, Lou,’ he says, tears cascading down his face, ‘I can’t help it. I can’t stop.’

The words billow around the room like a heavy smoke from an aggressive fire and Louis feels the air in his lungs diminish. 

Harry is so fragile and helpless, so beautiful and broken and the pieces of him cut into Louis’ skin and it stings. It stings so fucking much.

Harry reaches for him with shaking fingers, asking to bury himself under his skin and stay there, safe. 

Louis can feel himself rip in two as the world around him crumbles and all he can see and breathe and love is Harry. 

Louis inhales deeply through the vice on his chest and turns around and leaves.

**Author's Note:**

> I just put my playlist on and this came out.  
> Thank you all for reading and please excuse the mistakes.  
> I'll edit this when I have time :) x


End file.
